Cognitive Intuition
by Ms.GrahamCracker
Summary: Charlie's decision not to report a crime has unusual consequences for the Eppes


**Title; Cognitive Intuition**

**Disclaimer; I don't own them, or make any money from them, and I am not connected in anyway with the industry, but believe me, if I was, I would be listening to the writers.**

**No spoilers. No warnings. **

**Summary; Charlie's decision not to report a crime has unusual consequences for the Eppes**

Another holiday season like this last one, Special Agent Don Eppes thought to himself, and "Bah, Humbug" could become a permanent part of his vocabulary.

He turned into the underground parking garage at the downtown LAPD station and pulled the large SUV into one of the parking spaces reserved for federal vehicles. He glanced sideways at his partner, Megan Reeves, sitting in the passenger seat. She looked as drained and worn out as he felt. They had just made the trip from the FBI offices in total silence, both too tired to talk. Well, that was part of it. He had to admit he had been a little grouchy this morning, and she was probably just playing it safe. If she didn't say anything to him, he wouldn't have a reason to bite her head off. He sighed. Maybe after this raid, they could take a little time off. They all needed it.

The Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year season had come and gone in a series of top priority cases that overlapped each other, until some days just seemed a repeat of the day before. And now, here it was, the second week in January and there was still no end in sight. Don and his team were preparing for a joint raid with the LAPD and SWAT on a fanatical cult who had definitely not been filled with the holiday spirit. They had planted bombs at two separate church services last month. Luckily, there had been no fatalities, but at least eight people had spent the holidays in the hospital instead of at home with their families.

His brother, Charlie, had been able to use the data from the bombings to give them a location and optimal time to execute a raid on the cult's headquarters. They were due to join Lt. Foster and the task force here at the police station in ten minutes.

Don and Megan entered the large building through the parking garage elevator. Familiar with it's layout, they moved with purpose through the chaos of one of the country's largest law enforcement centers.

"Hey, Eppes." They stopped at the sound of a familiar voice and saw Lt. Gary Walker coming towards them. Don wondered at Gary's bemused expression. Walker worked in the gang division and probably wasn't part of the task force being assembled. But, he didn't seemed surprised to see Don and Megan there.

"Wow." He laughed. "I have to say, that is one impressive big brother radar you got there, Eppes."

Don frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Charlie just got here. I don't think he's even finished with the first book of mug shots yet." He nodded his head towards a small room, where Don saw two men sitting at a long table. One was a police officer and Don was shocked to see the other one was his younger brother. His dark curls hung in front of his face as he looked at the book of mug shots opened in front of him.

Don looked back to Walker. "What's going on, Gary? Why is Charlie looking at mug shots?"

Instead of answering, Gary caught the attention of the officer sitting in the room with the professor and indicated with a movement of his head for the officer to join them.

"That's Ben Travis," Walker said to Don, as the tall man approached them. "Travis, this is FBI Special Agent Don Eppes. He's Doctor Eppes' brother."

Officer Ben Travis raised an eyebrow as he studied Don. "FBI", he said. It was both a statement and a question, and it didn't go unnoticed by Don or Megan. They exchanged curious glances. Don gave the man a curt nod and answered. "Yeah, why? What's going on?"

Travis shook his head, dismissively, as though his reaction was not worth explaining, then answered, in a formal, clipped response. "We've been dealing with a series of thefts, Agent Eppes. Petty thefts mostly. Pickpocket. Grab and run. The occasional minor assault. He hits fast and is gone before anyone can ID him."

"Armed?" Don asked.

Travis shook his head. "No, but the number of robberies have escalated and the area of incidence is increasing every day. I know it's not the kind of things you federal agents deal with, and in the light of crime statistics in LA ,it's extremely minor, but it's been on my desk for awhile now and it's become a nuisance. We haven't been able to find a single piece of evidence."

Don didn't like Travis' condescending tone. But he was more concerned about Charlie's involvement.

"What does that have to do with Charlie?"

"Your brother was robbed this morning."

Don started and turned quickly to look at the figure still perusing mug shots. He looked alright, but Don still had to ask. "Is he okay?"

Ben Travis nodded. "Yes. He's fine."

"So, he came down here to report it and identify the thief?"

"Not exactly." Travis answered, a reproachful note clinging to the words.

The man's attitude was really bugging Don. "What do you mean?" he snapped.

"He actually caught the perp red handed this morning during the robbery."

"He caught him?" Don asked incredulously. He looked to Megan. Neither one could completely hold back their expression of shock, but there was a definite underlying sense of pride there, as well. _Way to_ _go, Charlie._ "So, if you have him in custody, why is Charlie looking at the mug shots?"

"We don't have him in custody." Travis answered, his voice short and scornful. "Your brother caught the thief, but, he let him go."

"He what?!"

Travis nodded, then added, smugly. "He let him go and not even an hour later, a college student was robbed. He had just cashed his Christmas money from his parents and grandparents. Lost it all. Several hundred dollars."

Don took immediate offense to Travis' tone of voice and he sent the officer a stern glare. "If Charlie really did do that, he must have had a good reason." he said defensively.

At the flash of anger in Don's eyes, Travis backed down. Don looked towards the small room again where Charlie still sat hunched over the books, unaware of the conversation centered around his morning incident. He sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked to Megan and she nodded, understanding. "I'll tell Foster we're here. Go ahead." she said, nodding her head in Charlie's direction.

He took a deep breath. As he walked to where his brother sat, Don found himself getting angrier with each step. _He let him go._ Why would he do that? Charlie worked so hard on some of the cases he helped them with, Don figured he felt the same about stopping crime and criminals that he and his team did. His earlier defense of Charlie's actions became obscured and fatigue and anger won over the other emotions raging in him.

He burst through the doorway and immediately the confined area became uncomfortably small and airless.

"Charlie." he said, his voice tired, harsh and laced with anger and disappointment. His brother looked up in surprise and involuntarily flinched at Don's expression. He pushed the book away and stood up, taking a step backwards, his hands on the back of the chair, a hard set to his jaw.

"Charlie." Don repeated, then barked out, "What the hell's going on with you?"

"Nothing, Don. It's nothing, really. Don't make a big deal out of it." Although he was obviously upset over his brother's reactions, Charlie stood firm, as though he were talking to an unruly student.

"It is a big deal! You let a criminal go free, without calling the police or pressing charges! Even you should know how incredibly stupid that was."

Charlie winced at the obvious insult. "It wasn't like that, Don." He tried to explain, but the look in his brother's eyes made him falter and he swallowed hard, casting his gaze towards the floor. Don paced around the room, like a caged tiger.

"I don't have time for this, Charlie." He growled. "We are hitting the Freedom Lights cult today and I have to be focused on that. I don't have time to clean up one of your messes."

At that, Charlie brought his head up sharply. "I didn't call you in," he protested, hotly, indignantly. "I didn't ask for your help, either. I can handle this just fine."

Don expelled a sharp breath of air. "Oh really?" He said. " Well, you're doing a great job of it. What came over you, Charlie? What happened?"

Charlie dropped his head again, sighing deeply. "I was talking to Professor Winston outside the physics building and this guy walked past us. He was young. I thought maybe he was a student. Anyway, he stumbled and fell and I helped him up. I guess I turned at just the right moment and caught him taking my wallet out of my jacket. I grabbed his hand. But, when I reached for my cell phone to call the police, he started begging me not to turn him in. He was so scared. He said he had never done this before but he had . . ."

"Oh my God." Don groaned and stepped away, wearily, rubbing the back of his neck. "He had never done this before." he repeated loudly, in a monotone, sarcastic tone. "But his mother, or sister, or daughter needed surgery and he didn't have the money, so he was just borrowing it and he was keeping a journal and would pay it all back sometime. Did I leave anything out?"

Charlie bristled at the scathing tone in his brother's voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but Don turned on him again.

"You're suppose to be a damn genius, Charlie. How could you fall for one of the oldest lines in the book?"

Something snapped in Charlie and he stepped forward, his eyes flashing and he answered defiantly. "I didn't fall for anything, Don. I knew he was lying. I knew he didn't have a loved one needing surgery and I knew he never paid anything back that he took. I'm not as defenseless or clueless as you think."

His anger diffused slightly by Charlie's uncharacteristically hostile attitude, Don said, "Then why . . .?"

"I don't know, Don. There was just something . . . something I can't explain. Can we leave it at that?"

"Something you can't explain." Don repeated, exasperated. "Like what?"

"I just. . . had a feeling."

"You told me you don't have feelings or hunches, remember?"

Charlie glared. "What I told you and Agent Edgerton was I use an intuitive synthesis of established mathematical principles and therom, but that wasn't what this was."

"Dammit, Charlie." Don dropped his head along with some of the attitude. He sighed, heavily, with exhaustion literally oozing from every pore. "I'm trying to understand here why you would let him just walk away after he tried to steal your wallet. Help me understand that."

"That's just it, Don. I can't make you understand it, if I don't understand it myself. I just felt he needed to be somewhere other than jail today. That's all."

"Oh, I see." Don easily returned to sarcasm at his brother's unreasonable explanation."Just where do you think he should be? Speaking at a convention for liars anonymous?"

Charlie blanched but answered boldly. "No. But, I knew it would be wrong to arrest him today. Don't ask me how, or why, I knew it. I just did."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure that's going to make the student who lost all his money feel real good, Charlie."

Charlie dropped his head in absolute misery. Don knew that he had dealt his brother a low blow and he regretted it as soon as he said it. Charlie looked at his brother, guilt and anguish showing in his dark eyes."That's why I am here." he practically moaned. " I feel awful about Jordan losing his money. I have to make it up to him, somehow." His whole demeanor suddenly changed and he ran his hand through his dark curls in frustration. He began to pace around the table, his hands waving erratically. "I can't believe I let intuition override my basic common sense. He's a criminal! Of course he belongs in jail!" Distressed, he looked at Don " I screwed up again. I'm sorry. I just . . ."

There was a sound at the door. Megan cleared her throat. "Don." Don glanced behind her shoulder at the increased activity outside the room. The task force had gathered and was ready to leave. "I have to go." he said. " But, we're not done with this." He headed for the door, then turned to look at Charlie once more. "We'll talk later." He only took another step before his brother's soft voice stopped him again. "Don."

He turned around and the sight of Charlie, his dark eyes brimming with an emotion Don could not identify, sucked the anger completely out of him, and the weariness returned. He asked quietly, "What?"

"Be careful." Charlie whispered earnestly.

Don's lips curled upward slightly and he answered, "Don't worry, buddy. I will."

Don and Megan rode in the assault vehicle while David and Colby followed in one of the FBI 's black Suburbans. He sat quietly, checking and rechecking his assault rifle, then doing the same with the extra weapon in his ankle holster.

He knew he should keep his mind on the raid. Agents who let their thoughts wander were just as deadly as any armed suspect.

But, for just a minute, in the silence of the vehicle, he let the incident with Charlie resurface.

He had learned early in his childhood that no one could push his buttons like Charlie. No one could make him as angry or frustrated as his little brother. And sometimes, being Charlie's brother was the most exhausting thing he did. Granted, Charlie's genius had propelled him into a world he was ill prepared for and he often found himself overwhelmed and unable to cope with the reality of life. Their mother could draw him back sometimes with gentle words and understanding. Their father, Alan, wasn't as adept at handling Charlie's early tantrums. But, Don could almost always reach him. Don had quickly become his safety net, his overflow valve.

In every phase of his life, Don had truly been his brother's keeper. High school, college, his short time with the Stockton Rangers, and now, as Senior Agent with the FBI, Don was there to pull Charlie from the abyss of numbers. More times than he could count, he would be called on to drop whatever he was doing and go cajole, coax, tease, or sometimes physically drag his brother from the fierce grip of the math he lived for.

And now, this, It seemed that no matter how old he was or how utterly exhausted he was, he still

had to help Charlie with everyday problems that most people had to handle themselves.

He had to admit, though, that Charlie had a better grip on things now. He seemed more centered. His flourishing relationship with Amita had a lot to do with it. And, he was secretly pleased to know that helping him with his FBI cases had improved Charlie's confidence around other people.

Besides that, he grudgingly conceded, Charlie hadn't called him. He had gone to the police on his own. In fact, Don would never even had been aware that Charlie had been robbed at all if he hadn't shown up at the police station when he did. And knowing his brother like he did, he knew with certainty that the worst part of this crazy scenario for Charlie was the second robbery. Maybe that was it. He had felt so guilty he couldn't bring himself to tell Don what he had done.

And what was this crap about a" feeling"? Where did that come from? He had never heard Charlie talk like that before. In fact, his brother was adamant in his belief that all things unexplainable or illogical just didn't exist. Charlie's "feeling" couldn't be proven by math, so it couldn't have been real. Was this some kind of new neurosis that his brother had developed? Who knew what went on in the genius brain of his? Certainly, nothing normal.

Don was shocked, and truthfully, a little alarmed, when the vehicle stopped in front of the old YMCA building that the Freedom Lights cult had appropriated for their mission. He shook off thoughts of his brother and stepped out of the van with Megan and three other agents, fully focused on the job now. David and Colby joined them, and with weapons drawn, they followed the SWAT agents and entered the building.

The cult used the three levels of the badly deteriorated building for different areas of their mission work. The first or main floor was utilized for business offices. Only a few of the rooms had actually been cleaned up and put to use. There was a reception area, and three small offices, but the rest of the first level was filled with disrepair and garbage.

The second floor was the living area. There was currently over 75 members, including 21 children, and they all cohabited the entire second floor. Several walls had been knocked down to facilitate an open living arrangement, where everyone shared the duties. Unfortunately, none of the duties included housework, or maintenance of any kind and the smell was overpowering.

Don and his team, along with several SWAT agents, had been assigned the third floor and when they entered the building they immediately headed for the stairway. The third level was furthest away from prying eyes. It was where the Freedom Lights converts were "trained" in all matters of criminal activities that the cult used to financially support or promote their mission. And it was in as dismal a state as the rest of the building.

They had been told to cuff and arrest the male members of the group. The female members and the children would be evaluated by a joint team of behavioral experts from the LAPD and social services.

The simultaneous attack on all three levels was so successful, the cult members were taken completely by surprise and no shots were fired. _Score another hit for Charlie and his algorithms,_ Don thought. David and Colby had discovered a room with a few stolen assault weapons, a box of grenades and three more bombs. It was a clean hit, a good hit, and it looked like, at the end of the day, everyone was going home safe.

Don supervised the roundup of suspects on the third floor. As they were cuffed, they were escorted down the staircase by officers from the LAPD. Some of them were protesting loudly, proclaiming both their innocence and their belief that they were chosen above others to do God's work.

As the number of cult members diminished on the training level, Don turned supervisory control over to Megan. "I'm going downstairs to help coordinate transportation."

He started for the staircase, only to find the way blocked by two police officers struggling with an particularly uncooperative cult member. They finally managed to subdue him, but Don turned away and walked down the hallway to an elevator. He pushed the down button and the doors opened immediately. He stepped in. As he waited for the doors to close, he heard another loud commotion in the hallway.

A young man was struggling with a policeman. The officer was trying to click the handcuffs in place, but, the man resisted, jerking his body around, yelling at the top of his voice. "It's a mistake! You're making a mistake. I'm not one of them."

Don saw the man twist around suddenly and before the policeman knew what was happening, the suspect was reaching for the officer's holstered weapon. Don bolted from the elevator and reached the struggling duo at the same time Colby Granger appeared. Together they threw the man to the floor and held him down while the cuffs were snapped into place.

"I tell you I'm not one of them. I'm not a member. Check their rosters. My name is Vincent Greenwood. My sister's a member. They just let me hang out here."

Don grabbed Greenwood's arm and dragged him to his feet. "Not a member, huh?"

Greenwood nodded, hope showing in his dark gray eyes as he looked at Don.

"Well, Mr. Vincent Greenwood, then I'd say it's just not your lucky day, cause you're heading downtown with the rest of them."

"But, I'm not. . ."

"Yeah, I know. Not a member. Got it."

As Don handed Greenwood off to the policeman, a sudden loud noise made him jump and turn around. With a tremendous snapping sound, the ancient rusted cables of the elevator broke and sent the car Don had just been in plummeting down the shaft with a earsplitting shriek of metal scraping metal. It hit the bottom floor in a explosion of dirt and wood, shattering the car completely.

In the eerie silence that followed Don and Colby walked slowly over to the opening. An immense cloud of dust filled the empty shaft and they coughed, waving some of it away. As the air cleared they were able to see the fragmented remains of the elevator car three floors below them. Don suddenly found it hard to draw a complete breath. He and Granger exchanged identical wide eyed, mouth agape expressions of horror, neither one apparently able to speak. Megan Reeves didn't have that problem. "Oh, my God!" she cried as she ran to them. With her hand on Don's arm she bent forward and looked at the decimated elevator car. "Don, you could have been killed!"

He swallowed hard, twice, before he could murmur. "That was kind of close, huh?"

Megan gave him an incredulous look. "You think?" She pulled him away from the open shaft. They stood quietly, breathing heavily, and watched three officers escort Greenwood to the stairs.

Though all three of them were still shaken, after a few minutes they were able to shrug it off, and continued working. An hour later, when all the cult members were either in custody or with Social Services, Don and Megan rode back to the FBI office with David and Colby.

As though they had rehearsed it, they walked together to the break room, where they ended up sitting quietly at a small table, steaming cups of coffee sitting untouched in front of them. The adrenalin that had fed them through the raid was gone, and they all felt the effects of the last month.

Don told himself that was why he didn't notice Area Director Merrick standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat loudly. He moved to stand up but Merrick motioned for him the stay where he was.

"Good job this morning." he said brusquely, obviously not comfortable with handing out praise.

"Thank you, sir."

Merrick held Don's eyes intensely for a few seconds and the agent knew his boss had heard about the elevator incident. Don returned his gaze, steady now. As they broke eye contact, Don noticed the Director had some papers in his hands and he was ashamed that he couldn't quite control the look that passed over his face.

Another case so soon.

Merrick cleared his throat and said, "Listen up, all of you. Finish up the paperwork from this morning's raid and take the next few days off. Get some rest."

He turned back to Don and handed the papers to him. "LAPD faxed this over while you were out. Dr. Eppes was able to identify his robber. They have an APB out on him. Thought you'd like to know."

Don stood and took the papers, laying them on the table as he shook Merrick's hand. "Thank you."

Their break forgotten with the promise of some time off, they found the energy to get up and head for their desks. Don gulped his coffee down and walked over to the trash and threw the plastic cup in.

As Colby Granger walked by the table, he automatically picked up the papers Don had left. As he handed them to his boss, the mug shot on the paper jumped out at him.

"Hey, Don. Look at this."

"What?"

Don scanned the paper and when his eyes fell on the mug shot and the name underneath it, he froze. Vincent Greenwood. The dark gray eyes were the same; the hair was a little longer in the mug shot, but there was no doubt; it was the same Vincent Greenwood they had just arrested a few hours ago. _He was the one who tried to rob_ _Charlie? _Don's knees almost buckled as he recalled his brother's words. "I just had a feeling. He needed to be somewhere other than jail today."

_Because if he had been in jail, he wouldn't have been reaching for a policeman's gun on the third floor of the Freedom Lights building and I wouldn't have jumped out of a doomed elevator to stop him._

Don didn't remember walking back to his desk. His mind was racing, trying to make sense out of the bizarre chain of events. He needed to talk to Charlie. He flipped open his phone and speed dialed his brother.

"Charles Eppes"

At first, Don wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He took a deep breath. "Hey, Charlie. Are you busy? Can you talk a minute?'

"Yeah, uh, actually, I'm heading for Peterson Hall for my 2 o'clock lecture. I can talk while I walk. Multi-tasking is a professorial requirement. What's up?" Before Don could answer Charlie jumped back in again."Oh, how did the raid go? Did you get them? Everyone alright?"

Don smiled into his cell phone. Sometimes, even Charlie had trouble keeping up with his train of thoughts.

"Good. They were all there, just like you said. We got them."

"That's great. So, what's up? You need my help with something else?"

"No. I was just wondering if you had some time available later. We need to talk."

"Yeah, about this morning, Don, I'm sorry. I was just . . ."

"No, Charlie, I'm sorry. I was way out of line and . . ."

"You were tired." Charlie murmured with familial insight.

"No excuse, buddy. Tired or not, I had no right to talk to you like that."

"So," Charlie said slowly, and Don could hear the compromising tone in his brother's voice, " if you can forget how incredibly stupid I was about the robbery this morning, I think I can overlook your annoying tendency to act like an ass when you're sleep deprived."

Don chuckled. Then he heard his brother's excited voice. "I found him. Did you know? I asked Lt. Walker to fax it to you. His name is Vincent . . ."

"Greenwood." Don finished.

"Yeah. So you got it?"

Instead of answering, Don hesitated for a minute, then asked, "Charlie, your Cognitive Emergence work. Have you . . . do you . . .have you done any research into intuition?"

"Intuition? Yeah, I've looked into it, Don. Why?"

Don tried to choose his words carefully. "You told me you use an intuitive synthesis of . . . of"

"Mathematical principles and therom," Charlie finished.

"Intuitive. Like in intuition?"

"Intuition, by definition, Don, has no objective validity. It's the apparent ability to acquire knowledge without a clear inference or reasoning process."

"Do you think that's what happened to you this morning? Did your intuition tell you not to have Greenwood arrested?"

"I don't know if it was that simple, Don. I mean, everyone uses intuition. I've seen you look at a suspect before that appears innocent to everyone else, and you. . . you just know they are hiding something. Is that only your intuition? Or is it also your training and experience?" Charlie paused, but when Don didn't respond, he asked, "Why? What's going on?"

"Something happened there today, buddy, and . . ."

"Wait, you're alright, aren't you? You said no one got hurt, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. And in a really weird way, I think I have you to thank for that."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I, but I was hoping we could figure it out together."

"Yeah, sure, Don. Whatever you need."

"I'll be done here in a few hours. How about that steakhouse south of the campus?"

"Sure, alright." he agreed, then, "Wait! Better yet. Dad's with Stan tonight. I'll be done here by 4. I'll swing by Milt's butcher shop on the way home and pick up a couple of nice steaks for us. I can have the grill fired up and ready when you get there. That way we can add a couple of cold beers to the equation and not have to worry about driving home."

"Sounds great, buddy. I'll bring the beer. See you then."

Closing his cell phone, he turned towards his desk again, and nearly bumped into Megan Reeves.

"Everything alright?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. She had been there, at the police station and had seen him storm angrily into the small room where his brother sat. She hadn't heard what was said, but she knew her boss's mood hadn't been the best that morning and she had felt sorry for the curly haired professor.

"You have sisters, right Reeves?"

She smiled. "Three, all older. But, Don, sisters, brothers, older, younger, it doesn't really matter."

He frowned. "How so?"

"Siblings. It's all the same." At his puzzled look, she laughed and tried to explain. "There are two reasons God put siblings on earth."

"Yeah, what's that?" He lifted one eyebrow in question.

She smiled. "The first reason is simple - to torment each other."

Don snorted. "Well, Charlie and I have that one down pat."

She studied him intently. "Don," she asked softly. "Did he really catch the robber, then let him go?"

He nodded "Red handed." He paused as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you know why he let him go?" Megan didn't respond and Don continued. "He said he had a feeling Greenwood needed to be somewhere other than jail today."

"Greenwood?"

He saw the question in her eyes and nodded once more. "Yeah, Vincent Greenwood. The same one we just arrested."

"Vincent Greenwood was the one who tried to rob Charlie this morning?" she asked, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Yeah. And, the thing is, he said he had a feeling, or a hunch, or something that told him not to have him arrested."

She shook her head sadly. "That must have been incredibly hard for him."

"How so?"

"Don, that had to go against everything Charlie believes in. Charlie is all about facts and logic, not hunches or intuition. For him to ignore his math and listen to a feeling . . . I can't imagine how difficult it must have been."

Don paused, thinking about what she had said. "Why would he do that?" he wondered out loud.

"Maybe it was more than just a feeling. More than intuition."

Don nodded, recalling the earlier conversation with his brother. "Yeah, he said he'd seen me use intuition when I'm dealing with suspects. But, he said it was also my training and experience. You think that's it? You think he used something else, too? Something besides intuition?"

"I know he did." she smiled. "And that's the other reason God put siblings on earth."

"Oh, yeah, what's that?"

"Unconditional love. They love you, no matter what. Even if it's just because you're his brother. But, in Charlie's case, I think it's more. I think somewhere, somehow Charlie knew Greenwood had to be free in order to help you. And, because he loves you, it was easy to forget logic and math, and listen to his feelings."

Don smiled, a soft warm smile that lit up face. He studied her for a minute, then said. "Do you know what I think, Reeves?" When she shook her head he continued. "I think they don't pay you enough."

She grinned from ear to ear. "You have that right, boss man." she agreed. " Remember that when the next job evaluation comes up."

He laughed. "If we don't get busy on these reports, neither one of us will have a good evaluation." As she turned to leave, he reached out and squeezed her arm lightly in gratitude. She smiled in return then left to start her paperwork.

Sighing, he pulled his chair back from his desk and slid into it. He touched the computer mouse and clicked several times, bringing up the home page for FBI reports.

It wouldn't take long. He had done so many of these reports, he could almost do them in his sleep. He'd be done before he knew it and on his way to Charlie's.

Cold beer. Red meat. Bonding with his brother. It was going to be a great night. He had a feeling.

THE END


End file.
